The Sensationalist
by justlikeawoman
Summary: Daphne Wintour is an over-ambitious journalist at the Gotham Gazette who's career and personal life begin to blossom after she writes a profile on the city's most wanted villian, The Joker. Set during the Dark Knight. Rated T just in case.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hello all! I was completely inspired by Heath Ledger's performance as the Joker in the Dark Knight so here is my addition to the plethora of stories set in the Nolanverse. I hope you enjoy as it unites two of my favorite things, Batman and journalism. Please read and review!  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, even though he was my imaginary boyfriend for several years during my youth, nor any of the other DC characters, I didn't write the screenplay for The Dark Knight so I don't own any of that plot and I also don't own the Alkaline Trio, either. The rest of the characters are my own.**

"You've got guts to spill, but no one's trust-worthy."

Alkaline Trio

Away from the sirens, motors and voices of the Gotham streets, the faint clicking of heels could be heard in the dark alley. The only other audible sound was the scurrying of rats along the sewer. The woman's feet tapped against the pavement as she slowly descended into darkness. Sludge slapped against her bare ankles as she quickened her step, She lifted the hem of her skirt, exposing her long, bare legs as she walked over a large puddle. The further she journeyed into the dark alley, the wider her green eyes grew in fear. She paused as she passed the first door.

"One," she accidentally said aloud. She was counting doors. He told her he would meet her at the sixth. Walking deeper into the black night she cursed herself for having forgotten a flashlight. She tried to calm herself. She was only doing her job. He had asked her to come, he wouldn't hurt her, he needed her. A chill went down her spine as she remembered the strange request.

Three nights ago she was awaken by the shrill ring of her telephone. Holding her crisp sheets to her bare chest, she groggily pressed the receiver to her ear.

"Daphne Wintour," the voice said. She immediately recognized it as the voice of terror she had heard so many times on the nightly news.

"Yes," she affirmed calmly.

"I want you to write a story about me, can you do that Daphne?" Her heart jumped in excitement.

"Yes," She said it again, this time with confidence and enthusiasm. The voice laughed.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes." The voice laughed again, this time more ominously.

"Good. Open your briefcase..._I left you my card_."

With that the phone clicked and Daphne rushed into the kitchen, her barefeet slapping the wood floor. On the floor was her briefcase. She propped it open on the counter. Laying atop her papers was a single playing card. She flipped it over, confirming the caller's identity--**the Joker**.

"This is the opportunity of a lifetime, " she told herself as she became more and more anxious. "This is front-page-four-columns-with-a-photo-good."

The possibility of career advancement seemed to soothe her fears but she had reason to believe she was in danger. She was approaching the sixth door when a man grabbed her from behind. She struggled against him but his strength was no match for her own. He wrapped one arm around her waist and brought the other to her neck. She screamed as she realized the hand was wielding a knife.

"Now, now Daphne," the man said calmly, in his hauntingly childlike voice. "This isn't going to work if you scream."

She was scared, the cool knife blade pressed against her skin. She did not fight him anymore instead letting him lead her into the doorway, hobbling with a visible limp into a small room. There were two crates across from each other with a makeshift table between them. He let her go and she crossed her arms in protest.

"Was the knife really neccessary?" She asked. He did not answer. She sat down on the nearest crate smoothing her green silk blouse and grey skirt as the man perched across from her. She was livid and he could tell. He reached into the pocket of his green jacket for a package of cigerettes. He lit the candle on the table between them and offered her a cigerette. She leaned into him for a light and he noticed how her damp blouse clung to her feminine silhouette. She leaned back and inhaled. In the candlelight she could finally see his familiar face before her. The dark eyes and the white facepaint now running thin after a day's sweat. She focused on his lips, full and bright, the scars on the corners of his mouth with red lipstick smeared over them. A sick charicature of a man.

"You like my scars, do you Daphne?" he smiled wide. Stretching the red painted scars across his face."Would you like to know how I got them?"

She nodded, and he began his story.

"You see, my father was a drinker, a real hard drinking man. So one night, I don't know how old I was, I was a real little guy.." He paused, looking at her noticing the amused expression on her face. He slammed his hands on the table and screamed.

"WHY AREN'T YOU WRITING THIS DOWN?"

Daphne laughed, "I'll start writing when you start telling the truth."

"I am!" He proclaimed. He reached across the table in an attempt to grab her by the neck but she pulled away. She looked at him with utter defiance.

"Do you think I'm stupid? It's a different story every time."

"But, it always ends the same."

"Why so serious?" They said in unison.

After a long pause, Daphne looked into his cold, dark eyes.

"Listen, no bullshit. I can't get them to print anything unless I can prove it's true. That means anything that comes out of your mouth, I have to fact check. I want to know nothing about your plans, I can't be responsible for delivering your warnings to the public. Save that for your little impromptu newscasts. I won't ask, you won't tell. This is about you, your background, your motivations, your ideals and your opinions. Do we have an agreement?"

Taken aback by her straight-forward cheek, the Joker was left momentarily speechless.

"Yes ma'am," he said enthusiastically, extending his hand to her in formal gesture. She took it, shook, and grew uncomfortable when he held it longer than necessary. She pulled it back, the Joker noticing her uncomfortable expression gave a snicker.

Daphne reached into her bag and removied a notebook and tape recorder. They talked in the tiny room off the alley until the candle had melted all over the table and they had smoked the entire pack of cigerettes.

Daphne stood up, "I'll write your story. Look for it in the Gazette."

"Then we do this again?" he asked.

"Maybe. It depends on how the story sells. I can't write for free."

"You'll write if your life depends on it," he muttered. Daphne leaned over him, seductively running her hand up his thigh. The Joker was enjoying it until she sank her long fingernails into the soft skin of his inner thigh.

"You do _not_ hurt me," she whispered pressing her lips to his ear. "And I don't want that fucking knife in my face, _ever_ again."

With that she bid him goodnight and walked back into the alley. She hailed a cab home excited for tomorrow's news briefing at the Gotham Gazette.

The Joker reflected momentarily in the dark room, rubbing his sore thigh. He smoothed his filthy green hair and adjusted his suit before standing up.

He smacked his lips, "Oh Daphne, we're going to have a lot of fun..."

Laughing, he took a can of gasoline from the corner of the room and haphazardly shook it over the crates and boxes. He made a trail to the door, put down the can and walked into the alley. He lit a cigarette and allowed the match to fall into the room. He stood back and giggling with demented joy as the room quickly became engulfed in flames. Smoke filled the alley until the man was no longer visible while his sick laughter echoed into the street.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, favorite-d, read and even just glanced at my story. I will try and get new chapters up sooner, this one has been written for a while in my notebook, I was just too lazy to type it up. Enjoi!

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Batman, he'd be my man-slave so obviously I do not. I don't own any of the Dark Knight plot or characters. That's enough.

**The Sensationalist: Chapter 2**

Daphne sat uncomfortably in the stiff, low-backed chair in the briefing room. Sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the room which was on the top floor of the Gazette building. Below people shuffled or speedwalked through the busy Gotham square. Daphne squinted into the bright sunlight watching birds fly past the window.The elegant blonde looked out of place among her coworkers. Most were making friendly chatter with one another while she sat quietly alone. Seated around the sturdy wooden table were about twenty Gazette employees. The room with it's big windows and big table and stiff chairs and people all made Daphne very uncomfortable. She could handle just about any situation but when she entered the briefing room it was as if confident, intelligent Daphne had been replaced by some meek, stammering school girl.

After proving herself through many internships at midwestern newspapers during college, Daphne was offered a position at the Gazette. She jumped at the opportunity to become a big city reporter but it was not all she had imagined it to be. She only began writing for the paper after a year of being an assistant to hot-shot reporter Leonard Davis. The assignments she received were truly boring and she was sick knowing she was not living up to her potential. She was determined today to get over her fear and finally make her peers take her seriously.

Around the table sat several other junior reporters, the distinguished columnists, reporting vets like Davis and her arrogant and demanding editor, Richard Bartley. He was in his late-forties and it was starting to show on his rotund face and bristly moustache which was now flecked with gray. He had been the Gazette's star reporter before taking the positon as editor. With age he had only become angrier and more difficult to please. Everyday conversation with Richard somehow always involved the other party being cursed at in his hardly tolerable tones. Daphne listened as he interrogated everyone on their ideas for the week and then, one by one, shot them down. Each time barking louder than the last.

"Come on people!" He roared, moustache twitching. "There is a terrorist maniac on the streets of Gotham and you want to write fluffy bullshit stories about..._gardening_?"

"Richard," Daphne began. "Why don't we do a profile on the Joker? We'd be the first paper in Gotham."

"Well, that's a novel idea, " He said sarcastically. 'Why is this junior telling me what the rest of you should have said WEEKS ago?"

He looked as though he was expecting an answer but everyone in the room knew it was a rhetorical question. He was right, they were very behind. Despite his recent and well-publicized bank heist, no one at the paper had taken any interest in following up on the Joker and as far as they could tell, neither had any of the other media publications in Gotham.

"Davis," he snapped. "I want you to take it. We need inside sources, the commissioner, eyewitnesses. You won't be able to get an interview with the Joker himself obviously that's out of the question..."

"But..." Daphne interrupted meekly.

"Wintour, you're fresh. We need someone who knows what they're doing on this piece."

"I already interviewed him," she said indignantly, this was her opportunity. "He asked for me."

The briefing room grew silent except for the disbelieving laughter of her editor.

"Oh junior," He struggled through fits of laughter. "You already interviewed the Joker? That's good. You're funny gal Wintour."

"I'm serious!" She proclaimed, opening her briefcase and removing the tape recorder. She set it on the table and pushed play. Her low voice filled the air.

"Are you ready?" her voice asked.

"The question is...Daphne, are _you_ ready?" The familiar cackle of the Joker filled the room. Daphne glanced around the table. Upon hearing the menace's voice, some faces were shocked, some petrified, others amused. She looked to Richard who no longer held his skeptic expression.

"Alright then, " he replied quietly using a sober tone she had never heard before. "The story is yours."

Satisfied, Daphne stopped the tape recorder and put it back in her briefcase.

"Meeting's dismissed," Richard sighed. The men and women meandered out of the room and to their desks chattering about the surprisingly interesting briefing. Daphne gathered her things and followed suit.

"Wintour," Richard called as she walked out the door.

"Yes?" She glanced over her shoulder.

"Why you?" he asked in that same quiet un-Richard-like voice. Daphne shrugged her shoulders. The mysterious villian had not given a reason for choosing her. Surely a more 'seasoned' journalist would be preferred for such a high profile story. She brushed the thought to the back of her mind as she sat down at her desk to begin writing.

She plugged her headphones into the tape recorder and began working intensely.Several phone calls later and she had received statements from the commissioner, several witnesses and the mayor. She was so immersed in the piece she did not notice several pairs of eyes on her or the speculating chatter that resounded through the office of the Gotham Gazette. Everyone was wondering how and why Daphne got into contact with the Joker. It seemed eerie and suspicious to her co-workers. In addition to the strange mood in the office, Daphne did not notice how dark it was growing until her friend Kay Shepard tapped her on the shoulder signalling that it was time to go. Kay was a young copy editor that happened to live in the same apartment building as Daphne. Being co-workers and neighbors, it was only natural that the two should become great friends.

"Ready to go there star-reporter?" she joked.

"Oh hush Kay. Richard barely let me have the story, and I think Davis has been glaring at me all afternoon."

"Nonsense. Right now, the Joker is the most famous man in Gotham," she explained. "Soon you'll be covering all the hot shots...like Bruce Wayne!"

Daphne rolled her eyes. Not even three minutes into conversation and Kay had mentioned her 'soon-to-be-lover'. Bruce Wayne was Gotham's most famous entrepreneur and a notorious playboy. Definitely Kay's type, gorgeous and rich. She was certain in her own imagination they'd hit it off.

"I think you're his biggest fan," Daphne giggled. "When I meet him, I'll have to introduce you."

"Would you really?" She asked excitedly not noticing Daphne's sarcasm.

"Oh yeah, we can go on double dates with the most unattainable bachelors in Gotham. You can have Bruce and I'll take the Batman."

The young women shared a laugh as they walked down the dark streets of Gotham. Kay's long hair flapped in the breeze and bounced off her shoulders as she stepped. Her hair was as dark as Daphne's was light. Standing side by side they looked like complete opposites though they both had the same tall curvy frame.

"What's not to love about Bruce Wayne?" Daphne chuckled, prepared to listen to Kay's monologue, again. "He's rich, I'm pretty sure he owns half the city by now. Way sexier than James Dean. Intelligent, great body..."

"I hear he's a GOD in the sack, too," Daphne remarked.

"I would not be surprised," she replied bluntly.

The entered their building and greeted the doorman. It was located in trendy, downtown Gotham, an area that attracted young, career-focused tenants. It surely wasn't the most luxurious place in Gotham but it fit Daphne's lifestyle perfectly. Her apartment was large enough for a single girl to entertain yet small enough where she didn't feel alone.

In the elevator, the girls discussed their plans for the evening.

"If you're not doing anything tonight we could order in Chinese and have a bottle of wine," Kay proposed.

"Well, I don't know...I still have a lot of work to do on that story..." Daphne was torn between her work and her friend. "Maybe this weekend.."

"Hello! It's Friday night! You'll have all weekend to work on it."

"Alright," Daphne agreed and followed Kay to her apartment.

Kay's walls were stark white flecked with the bright colors of her many strange paintings. Her home was clean, almost too clean. It looked as though Kay's critical eye for grammatical errors transcended into her cleaning routine. Visiting in Kay's abode was always a strong reminder to Daphne of how badly hers needed to be cleaned. Compared to the crisp, polished look surrounding her, her apartment was a mess. She liked to call it "Urban Clutter". She had painted the walls in each room a different odd, yet pretty color. Framed paintings and photographs she was too lazy to hang were propped up against walls and stacks of books covered every flat surface. Her most prized posessions were her vintage chairs she had collected over the years. She had made a point to have at least one in every room. She often yearned to have Kay's natural knack for tidiness and organization but the only thing Daphne had ever managed to put order to was her immaculately arranged closet. Kay found it easy to manage things but her perfectionist nature made her want to manage people, like Daphne. It was hard for her to accept much of Daphne's behavior. She was notoriously late to everything, always forgetting important dates and misplacing her belongings. But being so different made them unexpectedly good friends. They balanced each other out.

They sat on the floor of the living room, cartons of Chinese food cluttering Kay's usually bare coffee table. The television was on but they paid little attention instead they chatted animatedly. They had grown loud and giddy sharing the bottle of wine. Giggling, they filled their long-stemmed glasses for the third time. Kay turned to Daphne, very sternly.

"I have a serious question." She stated.

"Hit me."

"Who would you rather sleep with..." She began to laugh, exposing her mock seriousness. "Richard...or..the Joker?"

"Sick!" Apalled, Daphne gave her a playful shove. The thought of her old, chubby editor in bed with her was enough to make her regurgitate her Chinese. "I'd have to pick the Joker. I'd record us and play it at the next briefing."

"Wow Daph, I didn't know you were into knives..." Kay joked.

"Shut up!"

"You're right, he's probably into guys anyway. Y'know...the make-up and all."

"I don't think his make-up is funny, Kay. It's really creepy in person."

"What was it like? Interviewing him?" she asked with sober sincerity.

"Interesting to say the least, first he practically abducted me and held a knife to my throat."

"Oh my God!" Kay gasped. "Kay, did he hurt you?"

"No. I made myself very clear. After that, it was almost pleasant. Talking to him you can almost forget the horrible crimes he's committed, ignore the scars and the make-up. He's a real person."

"Yeah, a real fucked up person..." Kay muttered.

"That's very true. But, still...something makes me want to get to know him more. I'd really like to know where all of it is coming from," she explained.

"And thanks to you, soon the world will know."

That's it, just a bit more background and characterization. Please read and review


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm disappointed in myself for not updating sooner, I'm a slave to the television as I love the Olympics so here it is! Chapter 3! I would really love some more feedback so please take the time to review. I'm also considering finding a beta so if you're interested or think I need one, let me know!

Disclaimer: Batman is owned by DC Comics. Er...I also don't own Sex and the City.

Chapter 3

Daphne stood in her large closet in a towel, fretting over what she would wear to work that day. She had finished writing her story and was excited that it would be featured in the morning edition of the Gotham Gazette. She dressed carefully, pulling out pieces, holding them in front of her and examining herself in the mirror. She sighed and returned a purple blouse to the rack. She wanted to look her best on the day of her writing debut. Finally she decided on a long-sleeved yellow wrap dress with a pair of strappy black heels. As she fixed a large, black belt around her waist she admired the way the dress clung to her curves. She always felt gorgeous in yellow. The bright hue brought out the golden tones in her skin and made her light blonde hair more vibrant. She smoothed her hair in the mirror and grabbed her briefcase before leaving to meet Kay downstairs. As usual, Kay was clad in a light sweater with a black skirt and tights. Kay's style was much more comfortable and casual but she always looked beautiful, no matter how simple her clothes were.

"Whoa Carrie Bradshaw," she joked, eyeing Daphne's heels. She often compared her to the stylish writer from Sex and the City. Daphne didn't mind, she took it as a compliment.

The sounds of the busy street flooded their ears as they left the building through the big double doors. They liked walking to work, others might complain but Kay and Daphne were city girls. They loved the sounds, the people, the lights and the alluring atmosphere of Gotham. Walking in fluid movement with the other busy people in the Gotham street made them feel like a part of the great city. At each newstand, they saw the face of the Joker covering the front page of the Gazette. Daphne's pride grew each time she saw it.

"Look Daph! There's another one," Kay pointed excitedly, teasing her friend. "Oooh! And another one!"

Daphne laughed, "From here I can almost see my name."

She was glowing with happiness. Happy to have achieved such success so soon, she almost wanted to thank the Joker for choosing her though she still had no idea. She almost felt bad, as if she were profitting off of the crimes he had committed but she quickly convinced herself otherwise. Top-notch journalists dealt with scum like him everyday. Showing the world what criminals were capable of. It was her duty to unmask him. Maybe he would accidentally reveal to her some fact that would make it easier for the police to catch him. Who was she kidding? The Joker had flat out announced his plans and the police were no closer to capturing him than they were the vigilante Batman. Still, she felt as though her work could be helpful. Daphne drew in a deep breath as she entered the Gazette building.

"Great story, Daphne," a short brunette woman told her as she was passing by. Kay gave Daphne a strange look as if to say, "How does she know your name?"

On the way to the elevator several people who had never noticed her before stopped to tell her how much they had enjoyed the feature, and even inside the elevator the only topic of conversation was the Joker. It seemed as if everyone she passed had something to say, people even went out of their way to approach her. Kay got off at the fifth floor. She mouthed 'Good luck' and Daphne gave her a worried smile. She didn't know if she would be able to handle all of the sudden attention. A part of her was very pleased for having finally proved herself to her coworkers at the Gazette. Another part of her wondered if her sudden popularity would disappear as quick as it came. One story was certainly not enough to change her novice status. She tried to relax as she entered the briefing room. But to her surpirse, the room no longer felt tense as a few of her co-workers clapped and congratulated her. She felt as though she had just undergone some painful initiation and was finally accepted as a member of the elite. Everyone looked happy for her except Davis who never looked happy and a few junior reporters whose fake smiles were only a transparent mask for their inner jealousy. Even RIchard was smiling at her although Daphne wished he wouldn't recalling the conversation she had with Kay the other night. Richard's face just wasn't meant to smile. She was certain that somewhere, pigs were flying.

"Settle down!" he barked. His signature scowl had found its way back to his face. "We're one-up on the Globe but one story doesn't mean you lot get to throw in the towel."

Everyone groaned. Richard didn't need to remind them again of the rivalry. The Gotham Globe was the Gazette's biggest competitor. Every year the Globe out performed them by a small margin. They were constantly at odds to be the best-selling paper in Gotham. In the past, their bitter rivalry had lead to bouts of yellow journalism. Each paper printing scandalous trash which eventually damaged their reputation. Though it was much better now, Richard still encouraged ruthless reporting, reminding everyone of the "good 'ol days" when he would hide out in the dumpsters to get a story. "Now that's dedication!" he'd often said. After several more of Richard's rants, the meeting was dismissed. Daphne picked up her leather file folder and was about to follow the staff out the door.

"Stay for a minute, Wintour." Richard ordered. A few people gave her a curious glance. She seated herself again and gave him her full attention.

"I've...err..decided to move you up," he said, struggling to form the words. "I think it's time you get some serious work."

"Oh thank you so much!" Daphne nearly squealed with joy. He put his hand up to silence her.

"Your new office is across from Peterson in sports. You have the afternoon to move your belongings."

"You have no idea how grateful I am." she stammered.

"Well, you're the first junior I've promoted so don't disappoint me."

"I won't. Thank you, sir."

Richard rubbed his brow in frustation, he looked unusually nervous. Daphne did not notice, she was too excited. She thanked him once again and left the room. Her cubicle was located on the busiest floor in the office where the junior reporters, assistants and receptionists did the grunt work all day long. The room was always filled with the sounds of phones ringing, fingers typing and heels clicking. It was the circulation room where newspaper lackeys and wannabees had identical cubicles and tedious tasks. Below was the editing floor where Kay and others prepared the paper for print and below that advertising. But Daphne wasn't concerned with the floors below her as she carried her cardboard box of office supplies to the elevator and ascended to the next floor. She was moving up. The top floor was where all the editors, columnists, and reporters had private offices. She easiliy located her office as it was located directly across from an office that was decorated with posters for the Gotham Goliaths. It was well-known that Dan Peterson was an avid Goliaths supporter despite their disappointing and dismal season.

Daphne turned to her own glass door which she imagined decorating in a far different manner than Peterson. She pushed it open with her box and entered the room. It was bright. The walls were a cool gray and light flooded the office from the wall of windows directly opposite her. She set her cardboard box on her glass-top desk. Everything was so sleek, clean, and bare. A small black sofa was pushed against the wall next to a potted plant. Daphne laughed knowing the poor plant had less than a week to live. The most prominent feature of the office was the wall of windows. Her view was spectacular. Below her were the busy streets, ahead the steel towers of the Gotham skyline, and above the clear blue sky. From her window she could see Wayne Enterprises, easiliy the most famous building in Gotham. She wondered if she should invest in a telescope for Kay to spy on her 'future husband'. Chuckling to herself, she began to unpack her box. The majority of the items and papers she filled her new desk with were junk but she couldn't bring herself to throw away anything. Notes, rough drafts, pictures, she kept them all.

The rest of the afternoon she occupied herself with the tedious and frustrating chore of office organization. The work helped her ignore what was really bothering her but still she glanced at her telephone as if expecting someone to call. Daphne was getting worried. She thought he would have contacted her by now. What if he didn't like the story? Would he hurt her? Would Richard fire her if she didn't get another interview? She had a fleeting suspicion she would lose her new position if there were no more Joker stories. She gave a sigh of relief when she realized it was 4 pm and went downstairs to meet Kay.

When Daphne told Kay her good news she screamed and hugged her excitedly, urging that they celebrate at their favorite cafe immediately. Daphne agreed and they made their way into the energetic city streets.

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Daphne was buzzing with caffeine and conversation as she entered her apartment later that night. She decided she needed to relax and calm herself down after such an exciting day. She drew herself a hot bubble bath in her grand porcelain tub, lit a few lavender candles and a put a mellow album in her cd player which she set on the bathroom counter. She undressed and stepped into the bubbly water letting the warmth soothe all of her tension. She felt so accomplished as she replayed the days' events in her head mentally reminding herself to call her mother tomorrow and give her the good news. Forty-five minutes later the bubbles had all vanished and her hands and feet were discernibly pruny. She stood up and stepped out of the bath. She wrapped herself in a towel and brushed her hair in the mirror. The warm water had done wonders for her skin, she felt smooth and soft as she slipped into her peach silk robe. She tied it loosely barely covering her full chest.

She walked dazedly into her bedroom, more than ready to fall asleep between her crisp white sheets. She removed her robe and stretched before crawling into her bed. She extended her arms across her bed and hit something on the usually empty left side of her bed. Or _someone_ rather...noticing the object was warm and breathing she screamed. She turned to see her bedtime companion flashing his malicious Glasgow smile.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment...in my BED?" she screamed, struggling to cover herself with sheets.

"There's no need for that sugar, I've already..._seen the show_." the Joker snickered, mimicking her stretch and Daphne looked at him with disgust. "Fiiine. Put some clothes on...I won't look."

He held his hands over his eyes as she got up and retrieved her robe. Like a naughty child, he peeked through his fingers licking his lips at her nakedness. She reclothed herself with the robe this time securing it tightly covering all but her neck and legs. She turned on her bedside lamp and sat down next to him. He had his hands behind his head and his legs crossed as if her bed was a lazy boy. _At least his filthy hair isn't touching my bed_, she thought not noting his muddy shoes atop her comforter. She crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly. She looked as though she would throw him out at any minute.

"Well..." she asked, wanting an answer to her first question.

"Well what?" he knew he was annoying her.

"What are you doing in my bedroom?" she shouted. The question was obvious and she was getting fairly angry at him.

"Settle down Daphne," he was trying to explain, "Can't _friends _stop by to congratulate their _friends_?" He put extra emphasis on the end of the word, hissing like a snake.

"My _friends_ tend to use the door and don't spy on me when I'm naked." she spat.

"I was just waiting for you, how was I supposed to know you like to walk around naked?" He had a point. "Maybe next time you should use a little...discretion."

She sat there stubbornly, not wishing to be told to use discretion in her own apartment. He could tell she was very angry with him for invading her privacy but using the front door really wasn't his style.

"How do you like your new office?" he asked, winking at her.

"How do you know about that?" Daphne snapped.

"You could say I had a nice..._chat_...with your editor," he said pulling his knife out of his pocket and buffing it with his shirt. "He was more than willing to promote you."

"I don't need your help getting a promotion," she was furious at him for interfering. She thought she earned that position on her own not because some pyschopath held a knife to Richard's throat.

"I was helping you!" he didn't understand why she was so angry with him.

"Well don't do me any more favors, I don't need help from criminals." She stood up and pointed toward the large open window which he had entered through.

"Get out." she whispered sternly. He stood up as if to follow her order but instead he walked around the bed, stepping closer and closer to her.

"You don't NEED me?" he yelled. They were nose-to-nose. He pressed his body against hers, grabbing her hands and holding them up over her head. She stared at him fearful of what he would do next as she felt his hand sliding up and down her body.He roughly kissed her neck, grotesquely sliding his tongue up to her ear. She grimaced. He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, "Face it, Daphne. Without me, you'd still be a nobody."

He threw her onto the bed and she closed her eyes, anticipating an attack. But it never came, he stalked off out of her bedroom and down the hall. He exited her apartment through the front door and Daphne lay shocked on her bed, amazed he hadn't hurt her. She crawled back into bed, tears stinging her cheeks because she knew...The Joker was right.

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Review please!

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	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Here's a short one for you, I hope you enjoy and I appreciate all of the reviews.  
**

**Disclaimer: DC characters are not mine, although the entire staff at the Gotham Gazette is mine.**

**The Sensationalist: Chapter 4**

Alfred Pennyworth held a polished silver tray as he walked down the long cooridor of the Wayne Foundation Penthouse. Though technically a servant, the aging man carried himself with poise and dignity. Each day he dressed himself in a prim, freshly-pressed suit, shined his black shoes and parted his soft silver hair before beginning his butler duties. He certainly looked the part though his relationship with Master Wayne was much more personal. Glasses clanked but their contents did not spill as he briskly turned a corner. He moved quickly so the eggs and pancakes did not get cold. Also on the tray were a glass of orange juice, a cup of coffee, a rolled up newspaper and a few aspirin. He had grown accustom to providing aspirin; Master Wayne's unusual nighttime activities often left him sore and cranky. He entered the large master suite. The room was dark with a high vaulted ceiling which made it appear even bigger. A California-king was pushed up against the furthest wall, there was a large lump under the dark blue comforter making it appear occupied. Alfred set the tray on the low bedside table and walked over to the window. He thrust open the curtains allowing light to pour into the room unveiling the beautifully painted steel blue walls.

"Good morning, Master Wayne," Alfred spoke in a chipper British accent. The bed's occupant sat up and yawned. He was a young and extremely handsome man. His dark hair was toussled over his left eye and his prominent jawline was covered in a shadow of facial hair. He stretched his toned arms over his head, elongating his bare torso. He was extremely fit with lean, not bulky muscle.

"I've brought you some aspirin. It seems Batman had a rough night," Alred winked, his fine wrinkles spreading across his pale face. Bruce Wayne thanked him and chuckled gruffly. He picked up the newspaper, eyeing it curiously.

"Alfred," he called to his Butler just moments after he had left the room.

"Yes, Master Wayne?" he quickly appeared in the doorway.

"There's been a mistake, I usually read the Globe."

"No, not a mistake, sir. I thought you might find this particular edition of the Gazette rather interesting."

Bruce unrolled the paper further to reveal a large photograph of the Joker smiling menacingly up at him.

"_Seriously Jokin'_.." he repeated the headline aloud to himself as he reached for his glasses on the bedside table. He read the article not once, but twice circling interesting facts as he read. He looked at the clock and realizing the time he hurriedly removed his glasses which he only used for reading and headed towards the master bath.

After his shower and shave, Bruce dressed himself in a three-piece navy suit over a pale yellow shirt with a matching neck-tie. In the mirror he combed his dark hair, slicking it to the side. He grabbed the newspaper off of his bed and met Alfred in the kitchen. He set the paper on the counter.

"Save that for me, would you Al?" he asked buttoning his jacket. The butler obliged picking it up and tucking it under his arm.

"I see you enjoyed it," he remarked having seen the pencil markings.

"Yes, I found it very insightful," he mused. "Tell me, do you know anything about this...Daphne Wintour?"

"No, I'm quite sure this is the first I've read from her," he replied.

"Do me a favor and invite her to the Dent fundraiser." he requested as he wrapped his silk tie around his neck.

"More press, sir?" Alfred raised a skeptic eyebrow.

"What can I say?" he smirked as he tightened his tie. "I believe in Harvey Dent."

* * *

"Wintour!" her editor's harsh voice awoke Daphne from her dreamlike state. She had been drifting to sleep throughout the entire briefing. When she opened her eyes everyone in the room was staring at her. "For Christ's sake, get a cup of coffee."

Quick to obey, Daphne dismissed herself and walked down the hall to the coffeemaker. She groggily filled a styrofoam cup and walked to the bathroom. It was cold and her patent leather heels clicked against the hard tile. Setting her cup on the stainless steel counter, Daphne examined herself in the mirror. Last night had been rough on her. Small blue bruises had formed on her arms from where he grabbed her. There were deep purple circles around her green eyes from lack of sleep. On her neck where the Joker had kissed her she had a rash..._He wears cheap makeup_, she thought. She had scrubbed with all her might this morning but it still would not go away, leaving her neck red and blotchy. She tried to cover it up by wearing a pink scarf but you could still see it up by her ear. She adjusted her navy blazer and smoothed the full-printed skirt she was wearing. She had tried to mask her terrible night by looking good but she was blowing it by falling asleep in the meeting. She decided to apologize to Richard and try to explain. After splashing cold water on her face she picked up her coffee cup and made her way back to the briefing room. To her luck, the meeting was already dismissed. She gently tapped on the door.

"Come in, Wintour." Richard still sounded angry. Didn't he always sound angry?

"Richard, I'm really sorry about earlier, it's unacceptable and I understand. I had a very late meeting with the Joker last night and I..." she began to explain.

"Oh?" Richard's mustache twitched with curiousity. "You're working on another story?"

"Yes," Daphne lied.

"Great!" Richard's expression was suddenly much warmer. "Will you have it in by Friday?"

Daphne pretended to think it over but what she really needed was to buy herself some time. After last night she was certain it would take a lot of work on her part to get another story with the Joker.

"Actually, I think I'll need the weekend to work on it. I can have it in by Monday," she assured him though completely unsure if it was possible.

"Daphne-that's perfect! Every Monday a new feature on the Joker. Get to work."

Daphne felt as though someone had dropped a brick into the pit of her stomach. That was the last thing she needed to hear. She was afraid of becoming the "Joker-girl". She thought that one story would be a career booster and that she'd move on but that wasn't the case. She was stuck with the freak. It sickened her to know she relied on him completely. He was so volatile and beyond her control. She wanted to cry, nothing was going according to her plan.

When she reached her office something made her stop abruptly and drop her styrofoam cup, splashing searing hot coffee all over her bare ankles. It was red, bright red, blood red. She quickly flushed with anger and embarrassment. Someone, no...**He** had written "HA!" all over her glass door in bright red lipstick. The Joker was playing some kind of game with her. She couldn't believe him. Letting out a sigh of defeat she kicked the door smearing the lipstick with her toe. Dan Peterson peaked out of his office between his Gotham Goliaths posters. Staring at her door, his blue eyes were wide and shocked, his mouth agape.

"What the fuck are you staring at?" Daphne snapped picking up her cup. She pushed open her defaced door and walked into her office. She curled up on her tiny black sofa as tears welled up in her eyes. Staring at the violent graffiti, her face burned as the tears rolled down her cheeks. _What had she gotten herself into?_ All she wanted to do was write and be taken seriously, but was this really worth it? She had sold her soul to the Devil for a front-page headline. She lay there sobbing quietly to herself wishing she could never see the Joker again when she heard a squeaking sound coming from outside her office. She lifted her head to see someone wiping her window clean. She couldn't see through the blurred pink glass who it was. Sniffling, she walked to the door to see Dan Peterson, paper towels and Windex in hand. She laughed and opened the door.

"Oh hey, sorry just thought I'd y'know...so people don't stare," he stammered nervously as if expecting another verbal lashing. He had wavy golden brown hair and pale skin. Thin, tall and boyishly cute he was a basketball player in college before taking a position as a sports columnist as the Gazette. Even in her heels, Daphne was still a foot shorter than him. He noticed he had accidentally smeared the lipstick all over his pale blue shirt and khakis. "Good thing I don't have a girlfriend, she'd wonder who's lipstick was on my collar...and sleeve...and pants..."

Daphne giggled, wiping her wet eyes. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I shouldn't have snapped at you, and thanks," she said pointing to the window.

"Yeah, I understand girls get touchy when you stare at their breasts at work," he smiled at her. His big grin spread across his face revealing his crooked dimples. Daphne laughed, knowing full well it was the door that made him stare not her figure. He locked her in his gaze, she could see the concern in his clear blue eyes.

"It's more than you bargained for, right?"

He completely read her mind. She nodded looking down at her shoes. He stepped closer to her and lifted her chin. She stared up at him expectantly.

"I think it's time you show him how dangerous a beautiful woman can be."

* * *

**Please read and review! I'm working on the next chapter now and it will be up very shortly!**


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: It has been WAY too long since I updated. I sincerely apologize and hope to update more in the future. To be honest, this chapter was very hard because there were SO many ways to go as far as the Joker's past and it's very undefined in the film and comics. I hope you enjoy what I did, I took a lot of his points of view/experiences from the film The United States of Leland, a sadder less sadistic approach to his character. I hope you enjoy this chapter **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**

Disclaimer: I still don't own Batman, as soon as I start making money as a real writer I'll work on that.

The Sensationalist: Chapter 5

* * *

Daphne twirled the card between her fingers, debating whether or not she should call him. After thanking Dan for the millionth time she had gone back to her office to find yet another of the Joker's little surprises. Her desk drawers had been filled with playing cards all featuring his namesake. On each joker card he had scrawled a phone number in black ink. Now sitting in her desk with a pile of cards in her lap, she was nervous about calling him. She didn't want to admit that she needed him. She didn't want to be around him at all after what he had done to her but she promised Richard the story and she had a plan. Taking Dan's advice she decided to seduce the Joker. She would be in complete control and he would tell her anything she needed to know.

"It's not a fucking date," she told herself as she picked up the receiver and pressed it to hear ear. She dialed the number carefully and waited to hear his voice.

"Miss me?" he cackled. Daphne fought the urge to issue a feisty retort.

"Get over it. You were right, I was wrong. Thanks for the office. I need to see you," she said in a cool, bored tone.

"You_ need_ to see me, huh?" She could hear the malice in his voice. "Enjoyed last night as much as I did then?"

Daphne winced, remembering him groping her and sliding his tongue up her neck.

"Well, I can't say I didn't like the attention," Daphne lied, baiting him into her trap. "But my editor wants to run another story on Monday."

"Oh Daphne, I knew you'd be a lot of fun," he sounded excited. "Tonight?"

"No, I can't tonight," she said quickly. "Tomorrow in the alley?"

"Too hot there," he said with a laugh fondly remembering setting it ablaze. "Your place."

Daphne felt uneasy about having him in her apartment again but decided it was probably safer than the alley anyway so she agreed to meet him the next day.

* * *

"1...2...3..." Kay counted as Daphne held her breath and sucked in her middle. Kay was at Daphne's side, her dainty fingers clamped tightly to the tiny zipper of Daphne's black dress.

"Okay, we've got it up around the middle. Now, you need to exhale completely so I can get it over those boobs." Kay layed out the strategy for getting her into the dress and Daphne did as she was told. When she exhaled, Kay heaved once again with the zipper but it didn't budge.

"Too...big..." Kay gasped, wiping the sweat from her brow. There were three more inches to go and she figured by the time Daphne was zipped into the dress, she wouldn't need to do her nightly work out. "Can't you just take off that push-up bra? Like it's really necessary..."

"No. It'll work, one more try, please?" Daphne pouted. She relaxed, let her shoulders roll forward and exhaled as Kay pulled the zipper slowly until it reached the top. She did the clasp to ensurr she wouldn't have to help her friend with the tiresome chore again. Daphne thanked her and pulled back to look at herself in the mirror.

"You call that a dress?" Kay was befuddled. The black, vintage-cut dress had thick straps and a plunging neckline. The silhoutte defined Daphne's slim waist and showcased her mile-high legs. Sitting on the bench in Daphne's closet, Kay was eye level with more cleavage than she had ever seen. The dress fit Daphne like a glove. Though it was a real-bitch to get on, Kay did admit her friend looked incredibly sexy.

"Yeah, I picked it up at that fetish shop on 26th," Daphne laughed, bending over to put on her stilettos.

"Whoa, Daph. My face is here," Kay winced at Daphne's exposed bottom. Daphne quickly apologized and covered herself.

"Thanks for all your help but you better be going, he'll be here soon."

"Call me if that creep tries anything," Kay told her knowing full-well he would with her dressed like that, though she hoped everything worked out for her friend. Daphne assured her she would be fine.

"Oh, alright..." she said hugging her. " Night-night slutty spice."

"Very funny." Daphne said sarcastically. "I'll call you as soon as he leaves."

Kay made her way out of the apartment whispering a silent prayer for Daphne. She hoped to God the plan worked, if not, she couldn't predict what would happen.

Daphne, on the other hand, found the Joker quite predictable. She made her way to the large bathroom next to her bedroom. She turned the light on and left the door open. She guessed he would enter through her bedroom window as he had before and follow the light into the bathroom where she would be waiting. She leaned forward slightly, resting on the counter. She wanted him to notice her luscious..err.. asset as he walked in the door. The tight black dress barely covered her round bottom and showed off her lean, golden legs.

Suddenly, she heard the window crack and knew he was there. She could hear him limping out of the bedroom, towards her. She reached for a bright red tube of lipstick and began to apply it. The sound of his footsteps grew closer and Daphne held her breath in anticipation. The footsteps stopped. She could feel his presence but did not turn. He took a moment to take in the view before stepping closer to her. She could feel his lusty eyes burning through her skin then she could see him in the mirror. She did not acknowledge him and continued to apply the vibrant red lipstick.

"I think we wear the same lipstick," he gruffly stated.

"No," she hissed. "Mine's Chanel."

"Looks..good on you," he smiled and licked his lips animalistically. Daphne felt uncomfortable under his gaze. His eyes looked hungry...lustful...unpredictable. He took a few more steps toward her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He held her tight and buried his face in her neck. His hot breath gave her goosebumps. She arched her back, pressing her slender frame closer to his, feeling his groin swell against her butt. He pushed into her from behind as his hands explored her front. He traced the lines of her cleavage with his fingertips, giving her a faint tickling sensation. He cupped her breasts as she pushed back against him, harder and harder. Finally, she turned around on the bathroom counter and looked deep into his usually cold eyes, burning with desire.

"Maybe it would look better on you." She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and roughly pulled him into a kiss. His lips seared yet she continued to kiss him exploring his mouth with her tongue, not daring to wonder where his had been. She wrapped her long legs around him as he groped her smooth thighs, pressing his palms hard against her flesh and gripping them with his clumsy fingers. They inched further and further up her leg until they reached the silky fabric of her panties. Daphne gasped in surprise as he rubbed his finger against the damp cloth. He chuckled at her reaction. She quickly pushed him away and closed her legs.

"I don't think so," she snapped. "We have work to do."

She slid off the counter, adjusted her dress and walked into the kitchen. In the bathroom, the Joker groaned audibly in annoyance. He smoothed his hair in the mirror and left the bathroom. In the kitchen, Daphne was sitting at the table, legs crossed, pen in hand, ready for the interview.

"So what have you got for me?" She asked sweetly.

"How about a nice, big pair of blue balls?" He grumbled as he took the seat across from her.

"I'm being serious now, I need the story by Monday," she whined.

"Alright. I'll talk, then we fuck?"

He smacked his lips as he reached into his pocket for a pack of cigerettes. Daphne dismissed his remark.

"I need you to tell me about your childhood," she requested.

"You think Mommy and Daddy fucked me up?" he snarled as he lit his cigerette.

"It's a possibilty," Daphne explained. "I'm not saying your parents are to blame or anyone's to blame, some people are just born like you but either way, your childhood experiences are important to understanding you, your motivations, your inner conflict. It's basic psychoanalysis."

"So I'm the psycho, and you want to analyze me?" He stood up from his chair and walked to her side of the table. He breathed down her back, she could taste the nicotine. "What if I told you I was a nice little Catholic school boy? I had straight-A's and played basketball and said my prayers and went to church with Grandma every Sunday."

He leaned closer to her, making Daphne tense up. He whispered huskily in her ear.

"What if I told you I was a shy little pervert who layed in his bed every night thinking about all the nasty things he would do if he ever fucked a girl..like...you."

He laughed and Daphne tried to mask her disgust.

"I know you're angry at me but please, be serious."

"Oh Daphne, you know...I'm never serious."

"Please?" she asked clicking the red button on the tape recorder. "The truth."

Her green eyes were alive with curiousity. She wanted to know, and he wanted to tell her everything. He sighed before giving in.

"Alright," he admitted defeat. "The early stuff isn't that important...not that I can remember anyway. I guess you could say I was pretty normal until high school."

He spoke quickly, but in a somber tone that Daphne had never heard him use before. "You get to a certain age and you see things you didn't see before...or maybe they were always there but you never noticed. There's wrinkles on your mother's face, she's tired and worried and you don't remember her ever being so old. Your dad works late 'cause he's fucking some bitch at work while your mother slaves over laundry and cooking. And your older brother, he used to be so cool and talking about going to college, wanted to be an engineer or something but now he's working at some shit garage fixing cars 40 hours a week 'cause that girl he fucked in high school has his kid."

Daphne nodded in understanding and he took a long drag before continuing.

"You start to realize, it's not just your family, it's your friends and your teachers and everything you see, you only see the bad side. You wonder how everything got so sad, how everything you loved just changed or maybe it didn't, maybe you changed and pretty soon you start feeling fucking sad all the time."

He looked into Daphne's eyes as he let the truth spill. She was captivated yet surprised by his honesty and sadness in his voice. She hadn't expected it from him.

"There was this girl...I thought I could tell her everything and I did. I told her about being sad and she said she understood. Then all of a sudden, she started changing too. Trying to do things and act a certain way so boys would like her and I just couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't keep my head on straight I was so sad and confused."

"I just couldn't take it anymore," he repeated. "I remember one day, I must have stayed home from school...and I took a handful of my mom's sleeping pills and I went to the bathroom with a knife. I wanted to kill myself. I didn't even recognize the person in the mirror. I used to be this real happy, laughing kid all the time and I just had this disgusting, somber, serious look on my face all the time and I looked in the mirror that day and I couldn't stand to look at myself. I decided to widen my own smile." He rubbed his scars, and Daphne could tell it was the truth by the expression in his eyes.

"What happened after that?" Daphne interrupted for the first time.

"Shortly after...I don't know if it was the blood or the pills but I passed out and my mom found me in the bathroom. My mom found me and I spent nearly two years in a psychiatric hospital."

"But, that still doesn't explain why you kill people, why you're so malicious and violent..." Daphne was completely confused.

"When I left the hospital the day I turned 18, I was no longer a sad little teenager. I had a twisted, dark sense of the world. There was no good in people, humans are inherently bad. The bad guys were bad and honest, and the good guys were nothing but good liars."

"It's terrible that you think that," Daphne pitied him.

"Oh Daphne, I don't think..._I know_. You'll see, I'll prove it."

* * *

Thanks so much! I love feedback and thank you all for sticking with me even though it's been awhile.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hey everyone, it's been months and I'm disappointed in myself for not updating in so long but I was super busy so hopefully I've turned over a new leaf and can get the ball rolling on this. Please read and review---I'd love to know that some of you are still reading this. And if you're new, welcome to my story and please let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: Batman is only mine in my dreams. The newspaper staff are all mine.

**The Sensationalist  
Chapter 6**

"Can I ask you one more question?" Daphne said in a soft voice, turning off the tape recorder. "Off the record."

The Joker took a moment to ponder whether or not he should agree. Daphne sat silently, looking at him with anticipation until he nodded in compliance..

"What's your real name?"

He rolled his eyes and laughed at her question with no intention of answering it. It was clear he was finished. He lifted his purple suit coat off of the chair and readied himself to leave. Daphne stepped in front of him, blocking his way out of the kitchen. He tried to move around her but she threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She clung to him, trying to convince him to stay.

"Now, now Daphne..." he smacked his lips and talked to her as if she was a child. "I've got to go."

He pushed her off of him effortlessly and headed down the hall for the bedroom window. She followed after him, asking him to please stay. He opened the window and she looked at him. Her expression was hurt and confused.

"Why can't you just tell me your name?" she was upset.

"Because...then I'd have to _kill_ you," he winked then chuckled to himself as he lowered his body out of the window and onto the fire escape. As she watched his dark figure disappear into the night, Daphne found herself frustrated and still full of questions, wishing he would stay.

She walked to her closet, peeled off the black dress and let it fall to the floor. She slid into a smooth, loose-fitting nightgown before tucking herself in. Looking at the clock she sighed and decided it was too late to call Kay. Daphne turned on her side and prepared to drift off to sleep.

Daphne was emotionally exhausted. She had never expected the Joker's story to be so sad, so human. Like everyone else, she had wanted to believe he was just another sociopath instead, she found herself sympathizing with him and wanting to comfort him. But she still had not forgotten the terrible humiliation he had caused her the other day. She noted that this meeting was the most successful in the last in that she completely controlled the situation. Somewhere in between thoughts of the Joker and strings of words forming in her drowsy mind, Daphne heard the shrill ring of her telephone. She jumped up excitedly and pressed the receiver to her ear, expecting to hear his voice but instead she heard Kay, squawking into the phone about how worried she had been.

"Is that psycho gone yet?" she demanded.

"Yes, he left a while ago," When she heard Daphne's response, Kay grew furious.

"And you DIDN'T call me? Daphne for Christ's sake, I'm worried sick about you."

"I know...I know," Daphne felt guilty for making Kay worry over her. "He's really not that bad. You shouldn't..."

"Not that bad?" Kay couldn't believe her ears. How ignorant could Daphne be of the Joker's criminal behavior? "Daph, he's a fucking MURDERER!"

"He kills people and you let him into your home and spend time alone with him. What makes you think he'd think twice about blowing _you_ up or taking his knife to _your _throat?"

Daphne wanted to tell her to shut up and that he was really a good person but she knew it would be a lie. Kay as right, and if she wasn't careful, she could be next.

"I'm really sorry," Daphne pleaded for Kay to forgive her. "Next time, it'll be in public during the day. I swear, no more alone time with him."

"And you should lock your windows," she suggested and Daphne agreed.

"You promise you'll be safer with him?" she asked.

"Promise."

______________

Daphne arrived to work the next day to a large pile of mail waiting for her on her desk. She had grown accustomed to receiving more mail than she had in the past. While others didn't read their mail at all, Daphne made it a priority to read each letter. Some applauded her courageous work, others scorned her for taking the side of a criminal, and a few were so intrigued with the Joker it made Daphne a little uncomfortable. Either way, she was glad to know people were reading her work.

As she sat down to begin her new favorite chore, she noticed the top envelop was rather peculiar. It was small and white with an embossed gold seal. She excitedly opened it. The envelope revealed a black invitation with gold lettering. Daphne squealed with joy when she read she had been invited to a private fundraiser hosted by Bruce Wayne for Harvey Dent. Holding the invitation to her chest, Daphne stood up from her desk and danced like a maniac around her office. She was invited to one of the hottest press events of the year. It was a great opportunity for her to break into politics and high society in Gotham. She was ecstatic to be writing something other than Joker stories. She could hardly wait to announce her news to everyone at the briefing. She was still dancing when a voice asked,

"Am I interrupting something?"

Daphne spun around to see Dan Peterson in her doorway holding two cups of coffee. She blushed and adjusted the front of her nude blouse.

"I..." she stammered, smoothing the front of her skirt.

"I think my moves are almost as bad as yours, no worries."

He smiled and handed her a cup of coffee.

"I didn't know how you like it. Hope black's okay."

"It's perfect," she smiled and ushered him into her office. She took a seat at her desk while he relaxed on her sofa.

"I have exciting news, " she began, her eyes bright with happiness. "I just got an invitation to Bruce Wayne's Dent Fundraiser."

"You're kidding! Wow, that's amazing Daphne."

"I know, this is big!" she squealed.

"Big? Daphne, it's huge. It's going to be a media circus."

"Hopefully it won't be all business," she began. "I'm allowed to bring a guest."

Dan looked at her eagerly.

"Do you know my friend Kay Shepard? I'll probably bring her along. She's got this huge thing for Bruce Wayne."

"Really..." Dan tried to mask his disappointment. "I don't know her...why don't we all go out after work tonight?"

"Oh that sounds nice, I'm sure Kay would love to meet you, I talk about you all the time now." She smiled back at him.

Dan's disappointment faded as they talked animatedly of their plans for the evening. Their conversation was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door.

"Briefing room, now!" Richard demanded as he peaked his head through the door.

Dan and Daphne quickly stood up and followed him down the hall and into the briefing room. There they met confused faces that matched their own. Richard anxiously paced in front of his chair and Daphne wondered when he would began barking at them. When they were all seated, Richard cleared his throat and angrily held up a copy of the _Globe_.

"We need to get in on this," he started calmly. Daphne read the headline: _Bruce Wayne to Organize Fundraiser for New D.A._."This is the biggest news of the year. Why is it that I am just hearing about it from the _GLOBE_?"

Richard's face began to twitch and Daphne watched the hairs on his upper lip send a mini-wave from the left side of his moustache to the other. Sweat dripped from his beat red face as he spat at them.

"Want to know why I haven't heard about it? Because none of you USELESS writers were invited. This damn fundraiser-banquet-party-thing is invitation only and only a select few distinguished writers were invited...Do you know what that means?"

"The Globe gets the story?" asked the man with white-blonde hair sitting across from Daphne.

"No! It means each and every one of you had better do _whatever_ it takes to get into the party. Steal an invite. Climb in through a window. Dress up like a waiter...I don't care: _just get in_."

"Richard..." Daphne began meekly.

"WHAT?" Richard bellowed back at her.

"She's already been invited," Dan spoke up in her defense.

"You? You don't do politics or society," he looked puzzled. Daphne knew what he was thinking, _she's just Joker-girl_. "Well everyone, I believe a congratulations is in order."

The room was still and gave the most dismal applause Daphne had ever heard, aside from Dan's encouraging thunderclap beside her.

"That doesn't mean the rest of you are off the hook," he walked towards the door and gave them a lingering glare. "I expect to see more of you there."

Daphne remained still as the room emptied. None of her co-workers looked pleased with her. She shrugged it off, they weren't the ones risking their own lives every night to publish a story. She deserved the invitation more than anyone and wasn't afraid of what they would think. She walked proudly to her office, day-dreaming of the gown she would wear among Gotham's finest. Opening the door to her office and sitting down in her chair, Daphne couldn't help but let her excitement take over a little and couldn't wait to tell Kay. She controlled the impulse to call her while she was supposed to be working and instead decided to tell her tonight when they went out with Dan.  
___________________

Daphne carefully put on her long, cream-colored trenchcoat and buckled it around her waist. She looked up to see Dan in his navy blazer waiting for her in the doorway with a boyish grin. She hoisted her purse onto her shoulder and followed him down the hall and into the elevator. They got off on Kay's floor and walked to her desk. She was putting on her coat when she saw them walking toward her. She smiled at Daphne and asked frankly, "Who's this guy?"

"It's my friend Dan Peterson," she began, trying to jog Kay's memory. She only talked about him all of the time. "He works across the hall from me. Sports."

"Ohhh. Peterson-the Goliaths guy. I'm Kay Shepard," she extended her hand and he took it warmly.

"Nice to meet you," he smiled politely.

"Dan and I thought we should all go out for drinks tonight," Daphne explained. "I have big news for you!"

"Really? Then we must!" Kay joked excitedly as she buttoned up her gray wool coat. They left the building and headed three blocks north. The bitter cold slapped their faces leaving them bright pink all over and their teeth chattered as they talked. Daphne couldn't wait to get inside and warm up. They past several low-key bars and restaurants until they found Daphne and Kay's usual haunt, 3 Wishes. The walked in under the purple neon-sign and sighed when they felt the heat of the room. Candles in sconces lined the walls and wicks flickered on every table. In the corner was a large fireplace with several cushioned chairs and benches around it. The walls were a deep maroon and decorated with black and white photographs of models from the '40s. They found a cozy booth near the fireplace and removed their jackets before sitting down.

"Next time, I'll choose the location," Dan mused at his overtly feminine surroundings.

"Great, we'll end up in sports bars," Kay snapped.

"Quit bickering with Dan or I won't tell you the news," Daphne had grown tired of their obvious flirting. They placed their order with a server and sat quietly chatting.

When their drinks arrived, Daphne cleared her throat to tell Kay her good news. Kay rolled her eyes in annoyance--she was sick of waiting.

"I've been invited to a party hosted by Bruce Wayne and I'd like you to be my guest," Daphne stated calmly, she waited and looked at Kay. It took a moment for the words to register but when they did, she squealed with delight.

"I'm going to meet Bruce Wayne! Finally!" she jumped up and down in her seat like a child. Dan eyed her curiously.

"She has a huge thing for him," Daphne tried to explain. "It's like one of those really strange crushes, like the ones 14 year old girls get on boy band members."

"Oh, I totally understand. Bruce is an amazing guy."

"You know Bruce Wayne?" Kay turned to him inquisitively.

"Yes. Well, sort-of. I'm not the only avid Goliaths fan in Gotham. I usually see him at the games and we've had a conversation or two. He's every bit as charming and intelligent as you would imagine him to be. And he's not a dick about it either. I was really actually surprised."

"No way!" Kay was letting her affection for Bruce get the best of her. She knew in her mind she sounded like a lovesick teenager but he was her fantasy man and she couldn't help being excited. She would be attending a party at his penthouse and that was not something that happened to Kay Shepard every day.

"Yeah, we're like court-side buddies," Dan boasted trying to impress the women. Daphne just laughed at what fools her friends were making of themselves.

"If you really want to impress him, you should wear a dress made out of old Goliaths jerseys to the fundraiser," Daphne joked. Kay looked at her with disdain, not wishing to hear her taunts about Bruce. Daphne just laughed to herself and was grateful that Dan and Kay were getting along so well. She hadn't felt so content in a long time. With the pressure to publish the Joker stories and constant fear for her life, Daphne was savoring these few moments with her friends and growing excited for the fun time they would have at Bruce Wayne's party.

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